


official prison matters

by sapphicish



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicish/pseuds/sapphicish
Summary: Marie and Ann find themselves an arrangement similar to the one Marie had with Will.
Relationships: Marie Winter/Ann Reynolds
Kudos: 11





	official prison matters

Ann's perfume is the one Marie used to wear on the outside. London Honeysuckle smells different on her, she wears more of it and it overwhelms the scent of expensive shampoo in her soft hair. Marie might consider it too much any other time, too unsubtle for her liking, but she's in no position to say bad things about the General Manager when she's between Marie's legs, and that just goes against any and all sense of etiquette she's ever learned from rich clients, anyway.

Besides, she's learning to like it. The sweet, classic scent clings to her fingertips when she combs them through Ann's hair and makes her purr.

Ann is nothing like Will.

She isn't ashamed of what she's doing with Marie.

She isn't ashamed of anything.

Marie likes that.

"Harder," Ann sighs dreamily, her chest heaving and glistening with sweat as she pants, her head thrown back against her chair, her fingers quivering hard around the edge of her desk. Her legs splayed open around Marie's hand and the look on her face makes her look a little like a painting someone should hang up in a museum and look at but never touch.

It makes Marie want to touch her more, so she does, thrusts her fingers deep and holds on to Ann's hip, keeping her close, warm skin and hot breath and all.

Ann isn't what she usually goes for in women: the power dynamic reversed certainly isn't what she's used to. Marie thinks maybe that's the point, that Ann is trying to make a point. Marie is the used, the object rather than the user.

Or maybe, she thinks as Ann comes around her fingers, she just likes her.

And Marie does like the thought of that.

"Good girl," Marie says, lovely and coaxing, and leans up from the floor of Ann's office to kiss her on the mouth, even though she knows she hates it. Marie finds it charming, the reluctance to kiss in a woman, the kind of thing that comes from repression whether it's sexual (not in Ann, certainly not) or based in their sexuality (no, Ann compares her immediately to a girlfriend she had in college the first time they have sex and never blushes when Marie suggests something new that other women like her might balk at) or some misunderstanding about how it must absolutely mean a kind of tender romance they just aren't prepared for (definitely that).

Ann lets her do it anyway and that's how Marie knows she's winning.

"Coffee?" Ann always asks after pulling her underwear—always flimsy, lacy, with bright colours that make Marie smile every time—back into place and straightening her skirt. She asks it as a courtesy, and as a courtesy Marie always accepts even though up until recently she hadn't had coffee since she was twenty.

"Thank you," Marie says, lips pursed to blow air across the dark, burning surface. Ann gets her sugar before she asks for it.

"Cheers," Ann says, clicks their cups together.

"Cheers," Marie echoes, then sits across from Ann and watches her do paperwork and make calls for another half hour before she's dismissed.

Marie likes this routine more and more each time.

Maybe they're both winning.


End file.
